Foot fetish
by Crazy4Moony
Summary: When a simple footrub offers you the chance to change your relationship forever, to get what you've always wanted -needed- will you take it? Or is it completely okay just to let it slide and ignore the moment that was -never?- there? LLight.


Foot fetish

"What a terrible rainstorm." His hands abandon the towel on his head and he stalks closer. You can tell he's feeling weird about the sneakers he's wearing, for what must be the first time in his life. He looks rather funny like this. With the semi-wet towel on his head. But you don't do this. You don't show amusement. Not with him alone. Revealing feelings when with him alone is bad. It just _doesn't_ work that way. Even if you would want it to. (_But you don't_, you reason. _You really don't_.)

You give a small sigh and say: "it's your fault," you wipe the soft fabric against your face and through your hair. You don't like the icky wetness all around. You hate rain. "You were the one standing outside in the rain."

He moves closer still, pausing one second to study you. Then: "that's true. I'm sorry."

You don't comment, closing your eyes. You can hear him pausing again though, the distant sound of his moving sneakers fading away. When you open your eyes he's at your feet taking one in his hand. You're shocked, since you hadn't heard him coming closer.

"What are you doing, Ryuzaki?" You ask, confused and slightly upset at the sudden closeness. (_This is not so bad,_ you think, but you can't.)

"I thought I'd give you a hand. I'll help wipe you dry." He holds his towel close against your leg, but doesn't move. Only stares at you, and in the moment you can't quite tell if he's trying to read you mind, or if he's simply looking for confirmation in your facial expression. Probably the first, trying to defy you, heighten your Kira-factor, by reading your eyes. You already know he's going to fail, because all your thoughts (_except for the ones right now_) are not on Kira, but on L.

"No thanks, you don't need to do that." You drop your arm to your side, and he starts talking, unconsciously blowing hot breath against your skin. You restrain the urge to giggle like a girl at the tickly feeling.

"I'm going to give you a massage too," you relax at bit, but your eyes search his for any indication of what is going through his head right now. What is he thinking? "It's the least I can do, and I'm also pretty good at it."

You say nothing for a second. Then you look away, give a fake-irritated sigh, and say: "do what you want."

"Alright." His voice is barely above a whisper and he takes you by the ankle, a firm but relaxing grip, and starts drying your foot. He begins with your heel, and when he runs the fabric down, you have to suppress a moan. It feels so good. _Fuck_. But you won't admit it though.

"Oy!" His grip firms and you get shaken from the pleasant world of blissful-massage-ness.

"I'm almost done." He says, and you feel a slight tang of disappointment.

Pondering the feeling of disappointment, the one you're not supposed to feel, you feel a drop of water hit your leg. Looking at his face, you see the pearly drops slipping down the shambled locks, dripping onto you.

"You're still wet." You mumble, take your own towel, and instinctually start drying his hair.

It's not until he says: "I'm sorry." That you really realise what you're doing. He looks surprised, but not in a bad way. The soft feel of his skin against your foot stays and when he moves to pull away, finding the short foot rub just okay the way it is, your hand finds its way on his shoulder and keeps him in place. His eyes display no emotion, but you can tell he's doubting the gesture. Before he can reject you, you bend over, tug him closer, and connect your lips.

It's sloppy and strange and what a first kiss should be like. You're staring at each other, but then your eyes slip shut at the exact same time, and although there's a voice inside your head scolding at you, it feels so _right_.

And this really isn't such a good idea and it won't last long because you're sure he's about to hit you so hard—but then suddenly his hands are in your hair and you're stumbling across hallways. _Where is everyone?_ You think, and _maybe we shouldn't be doing this_. But when you want to voice your concerns, all you manage to do is push your lips harder against his. (The sugar he eats is deceiving—he doesn't taste as sweet as you'd expected, though it's still as intoxicating.) And he guides your bodies to the bedroom, waltzing across the monitor room. _Maybe,_ you think, _that's also something we shouldn't be doing._ But _to hell with it!_ And you push the door open.

Had this been any other person you would've been laughing your arse off, just thinking of what you were about to do—but with Ryuzaki that never mattered. Imagining any other man coming on to you, brushing against you, twisting his tongue like that—any other man's body moving so closely against yours—you would've suffocated with laughter. But this was _Ryuzaki_ and he was an antisocial freak, but his hands moved in the right ways, against the right places, and he could make you gasp and moan and no one had ever managed to make you feel this way.

Your back collides with the bed and your head is dizzy—_so dizzy_. Adrenaline is pumping and there's too much clothing—_get rid of it_. His mouth trails down, and touches all the skin and you purr in an animalistic way and you can feel him grin against your body and _Goddammit_.

Then he's naked too and you need him to be closer because this is not a heat you want to lose—you need this _forever_ and the only way to insure that is to keep him against you. The movements are awkward and the breathing's frantic, but it's so good to have him like _this_ with you. You push against each other and pull seconds later, and he's sweating and so are you and the air's thick and—_oh God_! But he tries to be gentle, and you don't give a fuck and claw at his back.

You are vaguely aware of how your voice is chanting his name over and over again, purring soft '_neh, Ryu!_'s against his shoulder as he moves. It's too good but you do notice all the times he moans your name hoarsely, and had you not been so _intoxicated_ by the moment you would have noticed how that only made the _goodness_ feel even _better_.

In all your years you've never felt this complete—you know you are a horrible person, and _possessive_ yet you've never had anything that was truly _yours_. With Ryuzaki it's different, because he knows he's only yours—even if he's the one doing the thrusting and the _oh!_ You gasp harshly, trying to remain breathing when he stirs something deep inside you, and you know it's the _end_ of the world. White flashes in front of your eyes and you can be sure that _now is when I die_—and maybe dying right now wouldn't be so bad, because you feel so _perfect_.

His tired body leans onto you, but only for a second. Then he pulls away and you feel so _empty_—and he flops down next to you. You are afraid he'll leave, but you can never admit it out loud. Instead you look at his face and he's _smiling_, which makes it so right. Because this just might be love, and love is kind of all you ever wanted from Ryuzaki. Curling yourself up against his skin you know this is okay, because _even if we don't last, we had this moment, and this moment was perfect_.

**AN: I'm not sure this is how I wanted it to end—but writing anything more might ruin the sentiment I tried to put in, so I'm keeping it this way. It might be a bit sad, but it really isn't—'cause no one dies and Light and L are happy together forever.**


End file.
